


Blood and Silver

by MissFrostFire



Series: The Blood [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Pre-Slash, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22752433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFrostFire/pseuds/MissFrostFire
Summary: He'd never been a fighter nor somebody of importance. But all of that was about to change.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635880
Comments: 18
Kudos: 431





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Witcher fanfic. I've read quite a few before I decided to start on my own. This is just one of many that I have in store for you, so I hope you like it!

“ _If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”_

The words echoed in Jaskier's head, loud and unforgiving. It haunted him in his waking life and nightmares. No matter what, he couldn't shake them off. He tried, but they always came back when he thought they'd left for good.

For days, he couldn't focus on anything other than those words and the expression on the witcher's face burned into his mind. The rage in those golden eyes had made him fearful for the very first time. It had him hesitate, and instead of ignoring—as he'd done with all other outbursts of the other man's. He had conceded defeat and left.

Jaskier had found an inn and settled inside. At first, he felt nothing. However, on the second day, the shock finally wore off, leaving his heart feeling more oppressive than ever in his life. On the third day, he felt anger towards everything that had happened. The fourth day rolled around, and with tears of anguish shed, he came to a realization. He'd fallen in love with the witcher.

It took a full week before the bard found his voice again. He sang to the patrons of the inn and tried to pretend that everything would be alright. For a moment, it worked. Jaskier's joy for life returned. However, when night fell and in the silence of his room, that happiness dwindled. The heaviness in his heart returned, and he knew at that moment that he would never be truly happy again.

The next day, he decided to leave. Jaskier took to the road and travelled from place to place. He sung in taverns, conversed with good folk, and drank until he couldn't think any more. He did all he could to forget that fateful day on the mountains, but nothing got rid of the heaviness in his heart.

A month later, he almost lost his life.

Jaskier sat drinking in a tavern when three burly men approached his table. He looked up and instantly got a bad vibe from the group, but tried to hide his nervousness as best as he could. “C- Can I help you, gentlemen?”

The tallest man of the group—presumably the leader—grinned in a wicked way. “You're that bard who travelled with the witcher, aren't you?” Before he could answer, the other man continued. “Where is that witcher of yours anyway? Did he finally get tired of you? Tossed you away?”

The other two men behind him laughed as his words dug deep into Jaskier's very being. He clenched his hands into fists, nails digging into the skin.

“Can't say I blame him considering all the things I've heard about you.” More laughter. “I've heard you're more trouble than you're worth. Unless, of course, you gave him something worthy. Maybe you sucked his cock for all the trouble?”

“Now, listen here–!”

“Ah! That actually could be it. You're not the witcher's bard. You're the witcher's whore. His own personal–“

He didn't manage to complete his sentence as Jaskier's growing rage exploded and punched the other man in the face. The leader fell backwards and before either one of his lackeys could react, the bard left the inn. He didn't manage to get very far as someone grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him to a nearby stable.

Jaskier's back hit the wall and looked up to the three men. Even in the dark, he spotted a bruise already forming on the taller man's cheek. It occurred to him then that he'd made that. He'd actually hit someone. Oh, fuck.

“The bitch seems to have some bite,” said the taller man, cracking his knuckles and grinning widely. “Let's say we tame it first, and then have it do our bidding, boys?”

The two men behind him agreed, and before Jaskier could make another move, one of them stepped up to hold him while the other two mercilessly beat him.

After the third hit, he lost count on how many he'd taken. All he knew was pain and the taste of blood. Finally, they grew tired of his lack of noises as they let him drop to the ground. He hit it hard, but the hurt felt null compared to what he had sustained thus far. He hoped that the group were satisfied and would leave him to wallow in his misery.

No such luck.

Jaskier felt something grab his hair and tug it upward, forcing him to face the leader. “Don't go to sleep yet, bitch.” Ugh, his breath smelled awful. “You haven't done what we've wanted.”

The taller man let him go as the three discussed among themselves on what to do next. One of the topics made his blood freeze and body tremble from fear. He knew that he had to do something. But what could he possibly do? He wasn't a fighter. He was nothing. Unimportant. A nuisance. A waste of space.

 _'No.'_ He shook his head. _'I can't think like that. I need to focus. I need–'_

Jaskier's thoughts cut off as his gaze landed on something hiding beneath the hay. It was hard to tell what, but after sneaking a glance at the three men and noting their lack of attention on him, he stretched out a hand to grasp it.

A dagger with red jewels decorating the handle was the last thing he expected to find in such a place. However, he was immensely grateful for it as now he had a chance. Despite the pain coursing through his body, he sat up and used the wall to lean on. He took a deep breath and faced the group that still paid him no mind, all the while hiding the dagger behind his back.

 _'Here goes nothing,'_ Jaskier thought while out loud he said, “Gentlemen. I'm growing quite bored with your constant chatter, have you come to a decision yet?”

The three men startled at his voice as they turned around to face him. The leader took a step forward. “Got some fighting still left in ya? I'm impressed.”

The bard smiled. “I'm flattered. Now, which one of you lovely men get to ravage me finally?”

The taller man looked taken aback but quickly recovered. “Well, well, well, seems I was right about the whore thing. Good. That makes me feel less guilty about this.”

 _'You don't have the sense to be able to feel any guilt at all.'_ He pushed the thoughts away and refocused on the matter at hand. “I'm so sorry that I hit you earlier. I was merely not expecting to be found out. Why don't I kiss your wound to make it better?”

The other man grinned and closed the distance between them. “Instead of kissing, you can do something else with your mouth.” He grasped the front of his trousers and fumbled with the belt.

Internally, Jaskier hadn't felt more disgusted with the current situation than he's been with anything else his entire life. And that's saying something to someone who accompanied a monster slayer who would be covered in blood and guts more often than not. Despite the urge of wanting to vomit, he kept still until the other man was close enough for him to touch.

“I hope you're better at sucking than singing.”

Jaskier met his gaze, all pretence gone. “I'll have you know my singing is perfectly fine.” He wasted no time in the next moment as he drove the dagger into the leader's right thigh.

The other man screamed in pain, and before he managed to recover enough to hurt him more, he stood up—albeit with some difficulty—and plunged the blade into his throat. Blood splattered onto his clothes as he pulled it out, letting the body drop to the ground. He heaved out a heavy breath and turned his attention to the other two men.

Jaskier beckoned them as a grin broke out on his face. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come and get some.”


	2. Chapter 2

In all his life, Jaskier had never imagined the weight of a blade to feel right in his hand. After all, he wasn't a fighter. However, since that day many months ago, his perceptive had changed. _He_ had changed.

Don't get him wrong, he still performed in taverns. His love for music, poetry and romance hadn't dwindled a single bit. However, his songs had changed. Instead of being about a certain witcher, he would sing more about his adventures. There weren't many, but one, in particular, caught people's interest. And they almost always demanded he told the story behind the song.

Six months after the incident at the stables, Jaskier ran into the most unlikely person. He hadn't paid any attention to where he was going as he hummed a new tune. Before he knew it, he bumped into something, or rather, someone.

“Oh! I- I'm sorry! I didn't see you there–“

He cut himself off when he realised that the eyes staring back at him were violet.

“Oh. It's you.”

Yennefer's face scrunched up in confusion at first before recognition settled in her gaze. “Jaskier?”

The bard wasn't surprised by her reaction. After all, he'd changed quite a bit since the last time they'd seen each other. The clothes he wore made him look like any other adventurer, apart from the lute that hung on his back. He'd given up colour and fancy dress ever since the incident. It just didn't feel like him any more. He also hadn't shaved in a while, making him look older than he'd like.

“What happened to you?”

Jaskier didn't feel inclined to answer. After all, he owed nothing to the sorceress. However, a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like his mother, told him it was rude to ignore a question asked. Especially from a beautiful maiden, and despite his intense dislike for the woman, he couldn't deny that she was indeed gorgeous.

In the end, he said, “It's a long story.”

“Really?” She crossed her arms and smirked. “Do tell.”

“I'd rather not.”

“Why? Afraid I'll–“

“I know this might be a crazy concept, but not everyone is afraid of you. In fact, I would bet a hundred ducat there are at least three people—including myself—that are not afraid of the big bad witch known as Yennefer of Vengerberg. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

Jaskier didn't give the sorceress a chance to respond as he walked away. He headed straight for the tavern and ordered a drink to calm his nerves. It worked but only for a time as someone sat down beside him. He glanced over and swore under his breath.

“What do you want, Yennefer?”

“There are quite a few things currently on my mind.” She paused to order a drink before turning to face him. “Are you certain that you want me to list them off?”

“I'd rather be torn apart by wolves.”

She hummed. “That's a bit dramatic, wouldn't you say? Then again, it's you so that shouldn't come as much of a surprise.”

The man didn't respond as he took a sip of his drink.

The two sat there in not so uncomfortable silence—surprisingly—as Jaskier surveyed the tavern. There were several people present, drinking and speaking loudly. The atmosphere of the place filled him with a warmth that he rarely got to enjoy.

“Anyway,” said Yennefer, interrupting his calm. “Where's Geralt? I don't see him anywhere.”

The mention of the witcher brought up painful memories that he quickly pushed away. “That's because he's not here,” he said. “We split up shortly after you left the mountains.”

“Finally got tired of you?”

“Something like that.”

“No way. Did you just agree with me on something?”

“Why not? It's not like I can stoop any lower than I already have.”

The silence that followed his statement both relieved and confused him. Despite a part of himself wanting to keep the quiet going for longer, he couldn't help but turn around and look at Yennefer. As expected, the woman's expression seemed devoid of any emotion. Except for her eyes, which showed something akin to sadness.

“What happened to you?”

Jaskier sighed but decided to indulge her against his better judgement. After all, things couldn't get any worse, right? He kept his story short and to the point unlike the one he told his audience. The entire time, the expression on her face didn't change one bit.

Once he finished, their space by the bar was thrown into silence once more. The bard took the time to finish his drink and order another as his companion—when did she become that?—processed his words. He'd consumed half of the ale when she broke the quiet.

“I always wondered about what happened to a person who has never killed until the moment comes where they do. Now I know.” She paused and took a sip of her drink. “They become miserable and boring.”

“I'm plenty of fun! Just not your kind that usually involves danger, manipulating others, and being a general bitch.”

“Funny.” She glanced at him with a smirk. “I thought you liked when people are being rude and bring danger. After all, isn't that why you like Geralt so much?”

Jaskier sputtered as he tried and failed to articulate anything. In the end, he shut his mouth and simply glared at the woman.

“Believe me, I didn't think it was true until I heard your song.”

“Which song?”

“'I am weak, my love, and I am wanting.'”

“Oh. That one.” The bard had almost completely forgotten about that song as it didn't give him as much rep as some of his other work. “I didn't think much about the meaning behind my words at the time.”

She snorted. “Clearly.”

“Anyway,” he began. “Yes, I like Geralt. What of it? Are you gonna make fun of me for it? If you are, go ahead. When you're done, please leave me alone as I have grown bored of trying to entertain you.”

“That's tempting, but I think I'll pass on that. Instead, I'm gonna give you some advice.”

“I really don't–“

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. In the end, the men that attacked you had it coming for them. You should not feel bad for people who are worse than dirt.”

“I–“

“Furthermore, you're no saint, Jaskier. I mean, considering how many women you've bedded, that should be a clue.”

“I don't think–“

“Killing—especially in a means of self-defence—doesn't mean you become less of the person that you are. It just means that you discovered that you're not as weak as you once thought.” She paused and took another sip of her drink. “Besides, I doubt anybody would blame you for getting rid off monsters like that.”

“That's the thing,” said Jaskier. “They weren't monsters, they were people. Human. No matter how much I look at it, I was more the monster at that moment. I didn't just kill them to protect myself. I _liked_ it. I felt powerful, and that scared me.”

The woman hummed. “I would say 'I understand' but the truth is that I don't.”

He snorted into his mug. “No kidding. You thrive on power.”

“Yes, I do,” she said with a smile. “But back on the matter at hand.”

“There's nothing more to say.”

“On the contrary, there is. You see, you're wrong.”

He glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow in question. “About what exactly?”

“If you truly were a monster, then wouldn't you have wanted to kill again since you liked it so much? And yet, you felt fear and perhaps even disgust when you realized what you had done?”

“I– Yes.”

“That's what it means to be human, Jaskier. Because a monster wouldn't think twice to do horrible things. You're not that kind of person.”

The man felt a rush of emotion as he quickly avoided the woman's gaze. For months, he'd wanted someone to say those words. Whenever he retold the story to a wider audience, they mostly praised him for his bravery. He'd thought to share his true thoughts and feelings on those memories with someone, anyone. However, fear had gripped his being and told him that it would only end in disaster. To finally get told that he wasn't any less of a person for what he did—even by someone like Yennefer—left him with a sense of relief.

It took him a few moments to manage to compose himself as he turned back towards the sorceress with a watery smile. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don't get all emotional on me now. I just said what needed to be said.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

“Anyway,” she began and finished off her drink. “As pleasant as this was, I know that I've overstayed my welcome. So, I'll leave you be.”

A wave of disappointment washed over the bard, which he promptly ignored. “I wish you safe travels.”

“Just one more thing.” She paused and stood up. “I don't know what happened between you and Geralt to split up, but I'm certain that neither of you likes it. You two deserve each other despite your many differences. You're both equally infuriating. So, I'll leave him to you.”

“What do you mean you'll– And she's gone.”

Jaskier watched as the door swung shut with a bang, startling some of the patrons. He turned in his seat and stared at the same space for a minute or so until he turned away from it. He couldn't help but feel as if the sorceress had just given him her blessing. That was ridiculous though, right? Then again, he couldn't help but feel honoured to be even considered good enough for Geralt. After all, what was he in comparison to a beautiful and powerful sorceress?

The bard shook his head, ridding himself of the negative thoughts. He let his mind wander as he wondered how it would be if he and the witcher were to meet again. Would the other man be surprised? Perhaps. Would he be happy to see him? Doubtful. Would he–?

He stopped his thought process before it finished. After all, it didn't matter. It wouldn't help in the long-run. Instead, he refocused on his mug of ale as he finished it in a matter of seconds and gestured at the bartender for another. He guessed only time would tell. And who knew? Maybe Destiny would be kind enough to leave him alone completely.


	3. Chapter 3

Destiny was not kind. Of course, Jaskier knew that. It had just taken him a while to realize how cruel it can be. Still, better late than never.

Two weeks after his encounter with Yennefer had led him to a town in need of a witcher. A strange fog had enveloped the nearby woods, and anyone who dared venture into it rarely came back alive. The people walked around the streets, their bodies tense and eyes filled with fear.

Jaskier did the best he could as he sang and made everyone forget about their troubles, if only for one night. But as the days passed by and no sign of any witcher, he'd had enough.

The bard approached the innkeeper—bless the woman's soul—and told her what he'd decided. Of course, she tried to convince him otherwise, but he'd already made up his mind. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he faced off with a monster. Only the first time he would be prepared.

He turned towards the door, ready to leave when a thought occurred to him. He looked over his shoulder and at the innkeeper with a grin. “If a white-haired man with golden eyes comes in, tell him to hurry up, would you please?”

Jaskier didn't wait for an answer as he stepped out of the inn. He shuddered at the cold morning breeze but didn't let something as trivial as that stop him. The trees loomed over as he approached the narrow path of the forest. The birds chirping faded the further he went.

It didn't take long until the fog settled over him like a thick white blanket. The bard placed his hands on his hips where he kept two daggers, one silver and the other steel. Many knew Jaskier to be a fool, but he'd paid enough attention to his witcher friend—or _former_ friend—to understand what hurt most beasts.

The man unsheathed both weapons at the same time when he heard an inhuman snarl. He scanned the mist for some movement but saw nothing except for white. His body trembled, but it wasn't from fear. He waited for a beat, two, three. No change. Then, he turned around and came face to face with a grotesque creature.

It had the body of a human but thin, skeletal even with long limbs and eyes that glowed. It growled at him, showing an array of sharp teeth before it disappeared in the next moment. Jaskier held his breath as three transparent shapes of the same beast materialized around him.

He took a step towards the closest one and drove his dagger into it. The form vanished from his eyes as he turned to the other two, careful to avoid their attacks. When the rest disappeared, he felt a presence behind him.

Jaskier jumped to the side and winced as the claws of the monster nicked him the shoulder. He glanced at the wound, noting his clothes already stained with blood. He didn't linger on it for long as he lunged for an attack.

The creature screeched as the silver dagger slashed across its body. A stench of something rotten wafted through the air. The man took the opportunity to attack with the other knife, only for it to touch nothing but air as the monster vanished into the fog.

It appeared a couple of seconds later and miraculously, Jaskier managed to sidestep its attack as he drove the dagger into the creature's stomach. It howled in pain, a scream that made his ears ring. He yanked it out a second later and dove in for another attack.

No such luck.

The beast disappeared into the air once more only for it to reappear behind him.

The man turned around and took a few steps back, careful not to trip over anything as he held onto his injured arm. Blood ran from the open wounds, down the paleness of his skin, and dripped down onto the forest floor. Jaskier knew that if he didn't finish it soon, then he would most likely die.

He tightened the grip on his dagger, and with a strength that he didn't know he possessed, drove the tip of the blade into the eye socket of the beast. Its screech resounded in the fog before it collapsed onto the ground.

Jaskier huffed out a laugh. He did it. He actually–

A snarl from behind startled him out of his thoughts. The bard turned around just in time to watch as another grotesque beast raised its clawed hand. He moved to get out of the way, but it was already too late.

A sharp pain bloomed from his already injured shoulder as he stumbled backwards. He eventually hit something substantial—a tree?—as he inhaled deeply. In his haze, Jaskier glanced over at his wounded shoulder. He winced when he saw the torn fabric quickly turning red with blood.

A growl from in front brought him back to the present. The man attempted to stand up but slid back down when the world swam.

_'It's no use. I've lost too much blood.'_

The creature approached, and he knew it was over. He looked into the monster's glowing eyes as it raised its arm, bony fingers spread apart. A rush of fear washed over him as he uttered out one word like a prayer.

“Geralt.”

The clawed hand came down.

And was promptly severed.

Jaskier didn't have time to wonder about the blood gushing out of the creature's wound as someone entered his line of sight. Despite the pain coursing through his body, he managed a smile. The bard watched as the witcher made quick work out of the monster. He wanted to observe for longer, but his eyelids felt too heavy. Before he passed out, Jaskier caught the other man's golden eyes staring.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier was no stranger to pain. He'd been beaten on numerous occasions and had his heart broken more times than he cared to remember. However, this sensation was something entirely different.

When he'd first woken up, he found himself unable to move. His body felt like lead as his vision greeted him to a blurry world. The man blinked a few times to clear it before he attempted to move again.

No such luck.

He sighed and settled for looking around the place now that his view had improved considerably. The ceiling that he'd stared at was wooden. When he looked down, he noticed that his chest was exposed. The duvet had spilt a little off to the side of the bed. Wait a minute. He recognised those walls.

_'Why am I–?'_

He stopped mid-thought as the memories flooded back.

The forest. The creature. Blood, lots of blood. Golden eyes.

The bard quickly sat up. He grimaced as pain shot through his body as he let out a groan. He reached for his right shoulder and met the familiar feel of bandages. It stung worse than any bruise or cut he'd ever experienced. His left arm hurt too, but the sensation was bearable in comparison.

The sound of a door creaking open made Jaskier's head snap in the general direction. He promptly froze. In the doorway stood Geralt of Rivia. He looked the same. For a moment, the man forgot to breathe. He didn't know what to say. It didn't matter though, as the witcher broke the silence first.

“You're an idiot.”

The bard almost missed the insult completely as he marvelled at the sound of the other man's voice. The deep and gruffness of it were like music to his ears. It sent shivers down his spine in a pleasant way. Several seconds passed until he realised that he should give a reaction. What had he said? Right, he was an idiot. Wait a moment.

“Pardon?”

“Who willingly goes into a forest that is inhabited by a monster?”

Ah. Right. He had done that. Jaskier had known that it wasn't been one of his brighter ideas. However, he didn't feel inclined to let Geralt know that.

Instead, he sucked in a deep breath and looked the witcher straight in the eye. “Well, I wouldn't have gone in if _somebody_ had gotten here sooner.”

“That's no excuse.” He took a couple of steps into the room and shut the door behind him. “You could have died.”

“I know.” He paused and looked down at his lap. “I was ready to die.”

“Jaskier...”

“Besides, I couldn't just sit around and do nothing when these people needed help.”

“In the future, you will.”

“And how would you know that?”

“The battlefield is no place for a bard–“

“I'm not just a bard any more.” He paused to swallow. “You probably saw it, didn't you? I killed one of those creatures.”

“Foglet.”

“Very well, foglet. The point is, I'm no longer the useless Jaskier you once knew.”

“You were never useless.”

“Huh?”

“You were loud and obnoxious.”

“I beg your pardon? I was neither of those things! I was the only good thing in your life. To shine upon your dull witcher world. To bless you with my presence and marvellous singing. To–“

Jaskier cut off his words when he felt a hand on his good shoulder. He looked up and met Geralt's golden gaze. Usually, his expression was one of indifference. Cold and calculating. Now though, it had a warmth to it that he rarely saw. There was a hint of a smile on his lips while his eyes burned with something much different.

“I'm glad that you're okay.”

The bard let his gaze fall back to his lap. He shrugged but stopped when it only brought pain. “I suppose that I'm thrilled that I didn't die.”

A silence fell around the two as they retreated back into their thoughts. The hand on Jaskier's shoulder didn't leave though. It stayed in place as if it was permanently stuck. It felt cool on his warm skin and yet also managed to burn him at the same time.

In all his time travelling with the witcher, he had never shown much affection or care towards anyone. Least of all him. It never occurred that the other man might have felt fear when he found the bard passed out on the forest floor. Especially considering what had happened on the mountains. Right. The mountains.

The memory of that day still pained him. However, Jaskier knew that he needed to get out the words that he'd practised ever since that fateful day out.

“It wasn't my fault.”

“Hmm?”

“I'm not to blame for all the bad in your life. That was unfair of you to say. I may have been there but I was not the direct cause of it. I'm not going to apologize for something that I didn't do.”

The hand on his shoulder disappeared. He bit down on a whine that threatened to spill out at the loss of the contact. He waited patiently for the other man's reaction.

“I know.”

He looked back up at the witcher. The expression on his face had twisted into a grimace as his eyes shone with regret.

“I'm sorry.”

Jaskier felt a rush of something wash over him. Relief? Happiness? He couldn't tell. Regardless, he felt at ease. More so than he had in months, maybe even years.

He smiled. “That looked physically painful, but I appreciate it.”

They spoke for the remainder of the day—or rather, Jaskier talked, and Geralt listened. The soothing feeling didn't leave him even when it was dark and quiet in the room. No negative thoughts nor feelings interrupted him as he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Time passed after their reunion. Despite the bard being unfit to travel for the next month, the witcher did not leave. Instead, he stayed and helped him get back on his feet.

It took some time, but eventually, he was well enough to leave the confinement of the bed. The men went to the tavern where they celebrated his road to recovery. A few of the villagers approached and thanked them for all they had done for their village, which made Jaskier happier than ever. Nobody stuck around for long until a young woman strolled up to the bar.

“Jaskier!”

The bard turned and smiled when he recognised the innkeeper's daughter. “Hello.”

“It's nice to see you up and about.”

“Thank you! It's nice to be out of the room.”

“Things have been so dull here, and I've been dying to hear you sing again.”

“Dying?” He glanced over at Geralt, seeking permission. The other man shrugged and he smiled in gratitude. “Well, that's no good.” The bard finished his drink and stood up. “Let's see what we can do.”

Jaskier didn't wait for a reaction as he made his way to the centre of the tavern. He grabbed his lute and loudly proclaimed to catch the people's attention. Then, he settled into a chair as the light strumming of the instrument filled the room.

He played a bunch of his old songs that he hadn't performed in a long time. A couple of the more enthusiastic ones, the people joined in. Too soon, he reached his new songs. The tune of one was much sombre than the others but still managed to draw the audience in.

_A shattered friendship_  
_And a broken heart_  
_I wander the world_  
_Needing a new start_

_I can't forget_  
_No matter what I do_  
_Still, I prevail_  
_And I trudge through_

_Feelings of resent_  
_Course through my soul_  
_Everything is in pieces_  
_Will I ever be whole?_

_Then a day came_  
_Where everything changed_  
_Almost lost my life_  
_To a group so deranged_

_I see blood, blood_  
_It flows like a river_

_I see blood, blood_  
_It makes me shiver_

_I see blood, blood_  
_It flows like a river_

_I see blood, blood_  
_And a glint of silver_

_Pain shoots through my being_  
_Broken, blue, and bleeding_  
_I crumple to the floor_  
_Hoping it will stop the beating_

_I'm blessed with nothingness_  
_But only for a minute_  
_Abuse and laughter fly_  
_I know I'm at my limit_

_Yet something in me stirs_  
_As sudden rage takes over_  
_I've caught them off guard_  
_And I'm growing even bolder_

_Red coats the silver in my hand_  
_As I do my own damage_  
_This is a song_  
_Of a bard turned savage_

_I see blood, blood_  
_It flows like a river_

_I see blood, blood_  
_It makes me shiver_

_Oh, what a thriller_

_I see blood, blood_  
_It flows like a river_

_I see blood, blood_  
_And a glint of silver_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes the end of this story. Thank you so much for reading! Your kudos, comments, and more really pushed me to finish this. It was a ton of fun to work on. It's far from over though. I have already started on the second story in The Blood series. So, keep your eyes peeled for that one in the future! Thank you again, and I'll see you in the next one.
> 
> And yes, I made those lyrics for those who might be wondering. I'm not doing anymore for the rest of them as that was incredibly difficult to do. But I don't regret doing it for this one.


End file.
